Dark Knight Chronicles
by Ryukeshen
Summary: This is a fanfic based off of Achaea, Dreams of Divine Lands, an internet text MUD. R
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, guilds, cities, locations of this fan fiction. The owners of the MUD Achaea do._

_Author's Note: Although the character name Dariel is mine, none of his character traits are actually what they are in the game, heh. In fact, he's not even a Maldaathi in game. Anyway, R&R please._

Dark Knight Chronicles

**Prologue**

The damp, humid air hung limp around him and tasted of the blood of a highly ranked necromancer. Dariel stood, motionless, on the thick puddle of blood on the stone tiled ground, pooling about the corpse splayed before him. He could not bring himself to move and an ominous feeling that somebody was watching him bothered him, but that was not his primary concern. The personal guards of the victim were moving in and Dariel knew that he was to be captured if he did not escape quickly. But his legs seemed incapable of movement, incapable of even the slightest twitch. However, it wasn't his body that resisted; it was his mind that disallowed his usually quick steps. For the necromancer he had just assassinated was none other than the Tyrannus of Mhaldor and also his best friend. Dariel had no idea what had happened, how it happened, or why it happened. He had been in a trance-like state and when he recovered, all he saw was the death encrusted eyes of the head of his friend staring up at him from the ground, seven meters away from its body. Recognizing the face instantly, all the knight could do was stand there, frozen, still gripping the blood-soaked twin broadswords in his hands.

A large group of guards flanked the doorway and entered cautiously, not knowing what to expect. Artimous, the Captain of the Guard walked took a peek inside, and recognized the two figures standing. He approached Dariel boldly, not knowing what the knight had done. As he drew closer, however, he saw something in Dariel's eyes that he had not seen in a long time in his commanding officer. Remorse. Suspicious but still respectful, he gave a quick salute and questioned Dariel.

"My liege, have you any idea who…" Just then, Artimous noticed the blood on Dariel's blade and gave a short grunting noise before unsheathing his own sword, and carefully stated, "Apologies, my lord, but you will have to come with us…or I will take you down myself."

_Like that's even possible, _Artimous thought to himself.

Dariel closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh before speaking in a barely audible, but determined tone," You and I both know, Artimous, that I did not do this purposefully. As there is no way to prove that, however, I will place myself under exile. Neither you nor your men are capable of stopping me, and I have no intention of placing myself under this city's corrupted court. I have killed His Tyrannus, and He will want my life. Although there is no way to stop Him from finding me…Well, I hope I shall have evidence by then."

The dark knight was shaking. He would have to give up his aspirations of ruling the evil city of Mhaldor under the God of Evil, Sartan, and he would have to leave his home, friends, guild, clan, and family. All for something he did not even remember doing. He would find who was truly responsible for the murder of his best friend or he would die trying. Dariel opened his eyes and saw the understanding face of Artimous, another of his close friends and a highly ranked officer in his guild, and immediately discontinued his trembling. He was the second highest ranked in his guild, holding the illustrious rank of Lord of Malevolence, and was definitely not afraid of a self-imposed exile. Slowly sheathing his bloody broadswords, Dariel walked out of the temple without being stopped, and finally out of his home of Mhaldor.

Artimous knew firsthand about the wrath of Lord Sartan, and silently wished his friend and previous commanding officer good luck.


	2. Part 1 Chapter 1: Divine War

**Part 1: Exile**

_Chapter 1: Divine War_

The streets of Ashtan were always loud, excited, and bustling with salesmen, street rats, actual rats, and the occasional young assassin trying to find work. There were no rules in the city, and the city Archons had no control over the actions of their people. Even the patron deity was often away, scouring the other planes of existence. This was the City of Freedom, and no matter how bad things were, no one truly cared as long as they were happy and not robbed of all their gold and bodily possessions just taking a walk down the wrong street. The city was also a perfect place for wanted felons, assassins, bounty hunters, and mercenaries to thrive.

Dariel could not bring himself to liking Ashtan, His spirit called out for pure evil and his mind could not stand the sheer lack of discipline, honor, and order present in the city. In his former home of Mhaldor, many of the insolent wretches would have been mercilessly slain for their lack of respect to leaders. Luckily for him, this _was_ the City of Freedom, so no one questioned his presence. In any of the other three cities he had a choice of going to after leaving Mhaldor a year ago, he would have probably been kicked out the moment he stepped foot into their gates. In fact, he was infamous in all the other cities for participation in raids and other crimes and it was not like he could hide his appearance or class. His many-layered stygian full plate was blazoned with the signature Maldaathi crest on the right chest plate and a faded crest of the order of Sartan on the left. The reason why it was even there in the first place was because of Dariel's intense lust for evil. Being in an extremely high ranked position in the Maldaathi guild also meant that Dariel was no ordinary dark knight. The position required hereditary skills passed down through a primarily pure bloodline, transcendent knowledge of necromancy, swordsmanship, survival, and weaponry. The bloodline, however, left a scar on his face on the right side, a blackened scar in the shape of a mystical dragon. The rest of his face wasn't much better off; the scars there showed that he was a veteran warrior who had survived many battles.

Even though he had sworn revenge on the one who forced him to murder his friend, Dariel still had absolutely no idea who had done it, or where to even start looking for information. He also spoke to Lord Sartan numerous times after the incident, and it turned out the God of Evil did not want him dead, because He suspected treachery as well. His order members dared not defy Him, for fear of certain death or permanent placement in the torturous realm of the Underworld. To kill Sartan's right hand man was even worse than taking a blow at the Malicious One Himself. It was hard for Him to find worthy Tyranni; those who ruled over Mhaldor reigned for their whole lives. Sartan knew that Dariel could not have killed the previous Tyrannus; he was just too loyal to evil. But Mhaldor could not accept a man who, in the eyes of many, apparently murdered their leader, and the order could not either.

Although Dariel had no idea where to look, he had his suspicions. The Mhaldorian guild of Serpentlords, aptly named the Naga, in recent years had become a farce of its former glory. Even though it was as old as the Maldaathi guild, the Naga lost many of its members due to an insurrection that took place in Mhaldor twenty years past. The incident was never recorded, but either way, many well-known members took their leave and ever since, the guild was jealous of the success of the Maldaathi. Unfortunately for Dariel, he had no way of investigating further than what he already knew, since many of the members who left were assassinated shortly thereafter.

However, Dariel had no time to spend on his own investigations. Lord Sartan's mighty figure loomed over him now and boomed, "Dariel, you know that Shallam and Mhaldor have been at war for over one hundred years. My sources inform Me that Shallam has begun its plans for a final attack on Mhaldor. You are but a mere maggot in My eyes, but unfortunately, you are a powerful maggot. Your power is required in order for My city to survive. If you fail Me, you will suffer eternally. However, if you succeed, I may be inclined show you unimaginable strength, deep inside your own pitiful mortal soul. I have already informed the new Tyrannus and you are to report to island immediately. The attack will come within one day. Prepare yourself."


	3. Chapter 2: Preparations

_Chapter 2: Preparations_

The island used to be a mountain surrounded by lush forest, but after the resurrection of Lord Sartan it turned into a decrepit and barren wasteland covered with a malicious red fog which destroys all beneficial plant life. Dariel stepped onto the infertile soil of the island and was instantly hit with a longing feeling of nostalgia. Of course, if he succeeded in his mission, he could probably make his way back into the favor of the city and of Lord Sartan. That was all that mattered to him now.

Dariel marched defiantly to the rendezvous point, but he could feel the demoralizing eyes staring at him from the shadows. The citizens of Mhaldor knew of Sartan's defense plan, but they still did not approve of Dariel. Of course, what was released to the public was just that Dariel had slain their Tyrannus, and the citizens certainly did not appreciate that their Lord still trusted a traitor like Dariel. The actual happenings were left in the dark on purpose, for Mhaldor needed a scapegoat to blame its problems on.

Finally reaching the camp, Dariel was led into a large tent by two armored guards. The Tyrannus turned around, smiled, and saluted Dariel with gusto. Dariel recognized the Tyrannus instantly, and knew him only as The High Lord Malifecence, Khoraji, guild master of the Maldaathi.

"I have been expecting you, Sir Dariel. Normally, Mhaldor would not need you…but under the circumstances…" Khoraji closed his eyes and smiled. "Shallam's mages have summoned the holy dragon, Karuxal. Unfortunately, our spies do not know the present location of him as he took off immediately after the summoning. But we do know that Shallam will definitely use him in their war efforts. Be warned that he could show up anytime during the siege. You and you alone will face him. Lord Sartan has wished it to be this way, and neither of us will defy his wishes."

Dariel nodded, not even questioning Sartan's reasoning in his mind. This situation wasn't new to him; he had offered many corpses of lesser dragons to Lord Sartan. However, Karuxal was a greater dragon lord, meaning his power was immense beyond measure. Dariel figured he had only a slim chance at defeating Karuxal, but he would need to find a way to do so to prove himself to Lord Sartan.

"Dariel, I will leave Karuxal to you. While you wait for his arrival, I need you to help the citizens of Mhaldor defend our great city against the attack. When the dragon arrives, we will hold off the Shallamese as long as we can, but it will not be forever. Do not fool around; kill as quickly as possible. Once the dragon falls, Shallam will run, just like the cowards they are."

"I understand, my liege."

Dariel made his way out of then tent and watched the eastern horizon. He could feel it; there was going to be much blood in the air.


	4. Chapter 3: Karuxal and the Siege

_Chapter 3: Karuxal and the Siege_

An arrow whistled through the air, heading straight towards the front line of the Mhaldorian defense. The arrow was followed by a multitude of other arrows, cultivating into a shower of projectiles that rained upon the front line. The attack had begun, and was highly organized, as the Shallamese mages summoned large storm clouds, using lightning as a weapon against the Mhaldorians.

"RETURN FIRE!"

A thousand arrows shrieked back at the Shallamese front line and a few hit their targets, but many were rejected by a magical barrier. Mhaldor had no mages, and they had no options left other than to swap volleys of archer fire and hold the lines. Shallam charged, and the battle was at full throttle. Even Lord Sartan and Lord Pentharian could be seen fighting, off in the distance on the southern horizon.

Dariel was in the middle of all of this, and slew as many Shallamese that he could see. However, the Shallamese knew who he was and many surrounded him in an attempt to overwhelm, but Dariel's broadswords swung in a perfect arc, slashing through the armor of the weak foot soldiers of the City of Light. His actions were almost mechanical now, his anger and passion poured out through the slaughter of his enemies. Pretty soon, the foot soldiers were paralyzed by the daemonic malice shown through the blood on his blade and the psychotic red of his eyes, falling easily.

A daemonic miasma began to surround the dark knight as he slew more and more, and expanded as each victim fell to his blades. Even arrows and the mage's lightning were deflected by the evil aura surrounding the dark knight. In the midst of battle, he was unstoppable. Unfortunately, a retreat was called, as the other sides of the front line were broken quite quickly, and Dariel had to withdraw to the second line with many of the other Mhaldorians.

Just then, two brilliant, luminescent dragon wings shimmered over the battlefield. Karuxal had arrived. The holy dragon was a gargantuan beast, with every part of its body shining a stunning light worthy of the sun itself. This dragon lord would not be easily defeated, especially by one person. In fact, the whole of Mhaldor seemed to not be able to stand a chance against the giant dragon.

Dariel, however, was a leader, and could not show fear. He gritted his teeth and prepared, knowing that defeating this dragon was going to be his last shot at his hopes and dreams, his last shot at life itself. His strength was the only thing that could save him now. A large battle cry erupted from his lips and a stone gargoyle landed before him, allowing him to board. Dariel's mount took flight with the dark knight as its rider and headed straight for the dragon.

Karuxal saw the small figure coming at him, also taking notice of the large miasma surrounding the figure. Not too worried and overconfident of his own power, Karuxal flared his nostrils and breathed a blue fire of holy power straight at Dariel. However, the pure evil of the aura that surrounded Dariel practically absorbed the fire and even expanded. Unfazed, Karuxal flapped his enormous wings and flew straight at the dark knight in an attempt to strike him down. However, the gargoyle was agile and dodged the claws and tail of the dragon, allowing Dariel to slice into the dragon's underbelly with his broadsword. An unholy screech exploded from Karuxal's mouth, but he turned around and faced Dariel again, obviously not down for the count. Dariel grumbled, knowing that one of the best opportunities to take down the dragon had passed. Now Karuxal would fight less carelessly and not underestimate the power of the dark knight. But Dariel had something else up his sleeve, a hereditary ability that was passed down through his family line.

_Damn it…I can't waste this ability on a situation like this…but…I have no choice._

Dariel stood on two feet on top of his mount and drew a ceremonial dagger from small sheath on his belt. With a defiant roar aimed at the dragon, he slowly aimed the dagger and poured his own essence into the blade. The evil miasma around him was also drawn into the dagger. Next, Dariel used the dagger to cut his left palm, leaving a few drops of blood on the blade. He held the dagger with his left hand and jammed the base of the hilt with his right, all while aimed at the mighty dragon.

"With my blood, I sacrifice a portion of my body and spirit to Lord Sartan, in order to slay this giant beast! Let this dagger be the blade to eviscerate and let my essence cleave the skies in twain! You, dragon, will not survive this!"

With a thrusting motion, Dariel projected his essence in a form of a dagger headed straight for Karuxal. The dragon was wide-eyed, sensing the immense power of the essence, seemingly straight from Sartan Himself, and only had enough time to create a holy barrier between the essence and his own body to try to soften the blow. In that single strike, the combined essence of both Lord Sartan and Dariel cleaved straight through the dragon lord, destroying both the body and spirit of Karuxal, disallowing any future resurrections. As the soldiers of Shallam looked up, they saw their great beast slain by but a single warrior, and the ensuing retreat could not be faster. Even Lord Pentharian felt the awesome might of Dariel and made a hasty retreat as well.

Dariel had done it; he had won against the beast for Lord Sartan and for Mhaldor. As he landed on the ground, his vision faded to black and all he could do was smile a wicked smile.


End file.
